


Oldstones

by cosimosis (Cosimosis)



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Emotional Baggage, M/M, Songfic, Trevor has issues, Unbeta'd, We Die Like Men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 13:03:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18591811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cosimosis/pseuds/cosimosis
Summary: Being in the old Belmont hold brings up memories for Trevor, especially when Adrian mentions that he found a portrait.





	Oldstones

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Castlevania fic. I love my trash husbands. This can be read as kind of pre-slash I think? I don't know. NOTE: If you are not caught up with Game of Thrones, the song used is from Season 8, Episode 2. The song in itself is not a major spoiler, though, do not read if you want no spoilers at all.

The old Belmont hold was quiet, save for the crackling of torches and the sound of pages being turned as Adrian still furiously searched for any answers to how to combat his father. Sypha had long ago fallen asleep, tangled up in an old blanket they’d managed to find. Trevor, however, was still awake, eyes still scanning the grand library as he stood near the collection of books on skeletons. Memories started to come back to him.

 _A happy boy of around_ _four_ _, welcoming a new sister into his family. Little Arabella sleeping_ _was_ _soundly in mothers arms._

_His father and mother giving him his first knife, in it etched the Belmont Crest, and learning the family history. He was ten._

_His older sister, Josephine, was singing. She charmed half the boys in town with her voice alone. Arabella, little Bell, wanted to be like her sister._

“Belmont, are you...are you alright? I haven’t heard you say one off-color remark in nearly an hour.”

Adrian’s voice snapped Trevor out of his memories. “Maybe I’m just tired, fangs. But, I’m sure has hell not sleeping yet.”

“I’m not going to eat you, if that’s your worry.”

If only his father were around, to witness the absurdity of a half-vampire, in the Belmont family library. He suppressed a laugh that seemed to also catch in his throat,

“I’d like to see you try.”

Adrian’s heightened hearing found the subtle change in Trevor’s voice. He looked up from his book,

“I can’t imagine what it’s like, being here for you.”

If Trevor was any sort of quiet, the dhampir may have actually been startled when he found himself face to face with the Belmont very quickly.

“You don’t want to start with this, _Alucard_.”

“I mean no offense. You were twelve, you said.”

“When the church decided it didn’t need us anymore? Yes. I was twelve.”

Adrian slowly closed his book, placing it aside on a shelf. “I found a portrait, with name plates, that had been saved from the fire, besides Leon’s. Were Josephine and Arabella ancestors too?”

The dhampir knew he’d said something wrong; blood started rushing through Trevor’s veins as his heartbeat quickened.

“You found their portrait? I thought – maybe mother must have got them down here somehow, when there was first talk of the church...Where are they?”

“I was looking at the impressive tapestries a couple floors up, and they were behind –“

Before Adrian could finish his sentence, Trevor was off running up the stairs. With a huff, he too ascended to the upper level where some tapestries hung from the cold stone walls, the hems just touching the floor. Having his superior speed, he managed to get to the right one before Trevor did. The human paused for a second, his hand outstretched, ready to pull back the tapestry depicting the slaying of a werewolf. Adrian listened; Trevor’s heart was pounding. The humans nerves were probably singing, so,the dhampir pulled back to fabric from the wall for him, showing a portrait of two girls.

The older one was perhaps around fourteen, her auburn hair pulled up in a more adult style, as if she were going to be introduce to court any day now. Her eyes still looked like they were shining, bright blue and with a hint of mischief about them. The younger, she was still a child no more than eight. She too had auburn hair, that fell in gentle ringlets. Her eyes were much like Trevors, almost silver and more serious than the older girl, whom Adrian figured was her sister.

“I almost forgot what they looked like,” Trevor whispered.

“They were your sisters,” Adrian stated.

“Yes. This...this was done maybe a month before – ” Trevor sucked in a breath through his teeth sharply, “before everything happened. Josephine had one boy from town practically fawning over her, I don’t remember his name. But, I teased her relentlessly. She was...she was the best singer, and always had stories. And Arabella...God, little Bell –”

Adrian listened to the shaky breath and the quick sniffle. He turned his attention away from the portrait to see tears springing forth from the silvery-blue eyes of the last Belmont. The man’s voice quavered and broke,

“Bell was eight. Just eight. She never had a chance – I was going to teach her how to hunt. She always wanted to learn.”

A quick flash of memory crossed Trevors thoughts. _The dying screams of his father, and mother. Arabella was already dead before they burned her body,_ _a small mercy if it could be called that_ _. Josephine took her own life before they could touch her._

Trevor didn’t remember how he ended up huddled on the floor, with Adrian’s arm around him in comfort. He didn’t know how long they had stayed like that, until his eyes stopped betraying him and his breathing evened out. Trevor whispered, as if it were a secret that would condemn him,

“I asked God to take me instead, to let them all live. I was ready to give my soul if it meant they could still be here.”

Adrian moved to sit in front of Trevor. He’ll never know what possessed him to do so, but the dhampir took the hunters hands in his own, and to his surprise, Trevor didn’t immediately recoil.

“I cannot understand all of your pain, but I know some. I grieve with you. And...And I am glad your soul is still on this Earth.”

They stayed like that for a moment as the hunter considered his words. Adrian looked back at the portrait, at the gentle faces of the Belmont girls. He knew the priest whom ordered their murder was either dead from the years, or, shortly would be by his own sword if the bastard lived.

“You said Josephine liked to sing?” Adrian asked, carefully.

“Yes, she did. I remember her favorite song.”

The dhampir offered a sad smile, “I would like to hear it, to help remember her by. If that is acceptable.”

The hall great keep was silent for a moment, but Adrian knew he hadn’t angered Trevor, as his heartbeat was calm. Then, quietly, a baritone voice began,

 

_High in the halls of the kings who are gone_

_Jenny would dance with her ghosts_

_The ones she had lost and the ones she had found_

_And the ones who had loved her the most_

 

Adrian closed his eyes and listened to the hunter’s voice growing stronger with each line. He was mildly surprised at how well he could sing. _Had all Belmonts been so talented?_ He wondered. Trevor poured his sorrow into the song; wishing he could hear Josephine again, and Bell trying to learn it. He could swear he heard his mother playing piano along with his singing,

 

_The ones who'd been gone for so very long_

_She couldn't remember their names_

_They spun her around on the damp old stone_

_Spun away all her sorrow and pain_

 

_And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_

_Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_

 

_They danced through the day_

_And into the night through the snow that swept through the hall_

_From winter to summer and winter again_

_'Til the walls did crumble and fall_

 

_And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_

_Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_

_And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_

_Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_

 

It wasn’t until the last notes reverberated around the hall that Adrian realized that a few stray tears had made their way down his cheeks. He prayed that if there was truly a God, that this man, his hunter, would never have to suffer again.


End file.
